Apple Juice
by Riu1122
Summary: John plays a prank. Contains underage, watersports, dumb teenagers. Not suitable for anyone but particularly minors.


"Hey Dave! Do you want anything to drink?"

"Sure, man. Whaddya got?"

John opened the fridge with a flourish, and made a show of examining the contents closely. He was fighting desperately to hold back his smile. "Weeelllllll... Oh yeah! We have apple juice! Your favorite kind too; I had my dad buy it at the store, special for you."

Dave knew something was up right away, and not just because John had supposedly done something nice for him in advance. His barely-suppressed smile, his stifled laughter, his idiotic, over-rehearsed movements and words, they all told Dave that John was trying to pull some stupid prank. The damn kid thought he was such a good actor, but he was transparent as polished glass. Pranks are all in the delivery, and John didn't know how to stop himself from laughing at his own joke.

Dave played along for now though; he was curious. "Oh yeah? Sweet. AJ sounds hella tight right about now."

John was already pulling the apple juice container from the fridge. True to his word, it was Dave's favorite brand, with the familiar Stepford-smiling cartoon apple on the label, unaware or else uncaring of its eventual fate of being squeezed and squashed to a pulp to draw its sweet nectar from its flesh for Dave's consumption. Right away, Dave knew what was going on. It was pathetically obvious, really. John was so predictable.

Rather than apple juice, the container was filled with urine. John, in his haste to metaphorically slobber all over late-80's Howie Mandel shitflicks, hadn't even bothered to get the color right. The thirteen-year-old had clearly been pretty hydrated when he set his plan in motion, cause the liquid was way too clear, a pale, sickly gold, rather than the deep amber that could actually conceivably be mistaken for AJ.

Dave took the bottle from John. The dumb kid was biting his lip, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface already. Dave showed no hint of suspicion or awareness on his face. Their prankster's gambit right now was in a delicate equilibrium; had Dave fallen for this, it would have swung in John's favor. But how to parry this potentially lethal blow? He could simply say, "Fuck you, Egbert," but that would do nothing for his own gambit. It was now, when John thought he had won, that his defenses were at their lowest.

Dave had very little time to run through many options. If he hesitated, he'd give the ruse away. As he opened the juice (the seal had already obviously been broken; did John really think he would trick him with something this sloppy?), Dave ran through his options. He could pour it over John's head. That'd be very satisfying, and great ironic justice, but it was very hamfisted and inelegant, totally unsubtle. It wasn't something Bro would ever do (Dave generally judged the potential ironic humor of an action based off how easily he could imagine his brother doing it).

He could throw it at a wall, screech like a howler monkey, and jump out the window? Definite points for incomprehensibility, but the idea took a major hit for the possibility of death, plus he'd have to clean up the piss off the wall.

Then an idea presented itself. It was perfect. Dave didn't relish the idea, but nothing would confuse and upset John more. He was going to give his friend exactly what he wanted.

He raised the piss-filled bottle to his lips. No time for second guessing himself. If he faltered or flinched the joke would be ruined. This was all in the acting. He tipped back the container and began gulping.

A bark of laughter escaped John's mouth, but before it could even emerge from between his lips, it was choked back. There was no spit-take. No disgusted shouting. Dave was still eagerly gulping down, like a man dying of thirst.

Dave had prepared for the taste. But it was totally different from what he had expected. He knew the smell of pee, the musky, cloying scent that sometimes floated up around his head when he took a leak, but the actual flavor was totally different. It took a second to hit him; at first it was just a cold sensation splashing over his tongue. But then the taste hit him like a bullet train to the gonads. It was bitter and acrid, and totally overwhelming. He had thought at first that the fact it was cold would make it better, more refreshing somehow, less like the fresh stuff that was still hot from the donor's body heat. Instead the temperature just highlighted the flavor, put every tang into super high contrast. It made him want to crinkle his face in disgust, to spit it out, to wash his tongue with soap for hours until every remainder of the flavor was scrubbed from his flesh. But he couldn't. If he stopped now, John's prank would be a success, and that was just not acceptable. He had gambled big time on this counterattack, and its success depended on his ability to hide his discomfort. So he refused to acknowledge the distress signals being beamed at max volume from his taste buds and kept swallowing.

John was gaping now. What the fuck was going on? Had he grabbed the wrong apple juice container? No, it had definitely been the right one. Did Dave actually think he was drinking AJ? He couldn't! Could he? Did pee taste like apple juice? John thought about that. He had never really tasted urine before, but it seemed to him that it couldn't possibly. What were they made of? Pee was water and... human waste? And apples were made of... well, apple? It was weird, apples were such fundamental, indivisible objects to John, it seemed difficult to separate the flavor into its constituent parts. Point was, it was impossible that Dave thought he was drinking apple juice. So was he just enjoying drinking John's pee?

The thought made John feel dizzy. Dave had nearly drained the bottle now, and John had just stared at him the whole time. His Adam's apple bobbed furiously as he gulped, and John figured there was some sort of irony in this that he was just not qualified to talk about. He felt really uncomfortable, watching his best friend drink his pee with such gusto. It was strange, but, almost, kind of, in a really weird way, sort of nice.

Dave let the last few ounces drain into his mouth and swallowed it all at once, lowering the container in a wide arc and letting out an exaggerated, refreshed "aaaahhh!" He threw the empty bottle to John, who reacted late, and nearly dropped it, getting splashed with small droplets that flew from the uncovered mouth of the bottle. He wiped them off furiously on his pants. "Thanks, man," Dave said, "That really hit the spot." By the end, he had grown used to the taste. It was still unpleasant, but he wasn't in danger of gagging or spitting it out. But now that he was done, he was hit by the aftertaste, a lingering burning sensation that danced over his tongue and put him in danger of barfing. He could feel the liquid sloshing around in his belly, and it struck him suddenly what he had just done. He had drunk 20 fluid ounces of his best bro's piss. He kept his composure; he wasn't going to let it all be for nothing. Too late to give the joke away now.

"Come on, man. You're being weird. Let's go play Xbox."

John followed Dave, still holding the empty bottle, and feeling like he was floating. He still wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

When Dave finally left, saying that Bro was bringing home taquitos tonight and "like hell he was gonna miss that, man," John still had the empty AJ container sitting on his living room coffee table. He had set it down there when he realized he was still carrying, and somehow hadn't thought of throwing it out. He picked it up now.

He raised the open top to his nose, and sniffed. The pungent aroma made him crinkle his nose. Yeah, that definitely had his piss in it. There were some droplets still clinging to the rim. John hesitated, then stuck his tongue out. He licked experimentally, collecting some of the residue on his tongue.

A second later, he recoiled. He spat and blew a raspberry, trying to rid his mouth of the taste. Fuck! It was horrible, even in such a small amount. There was no way Dave didn't know what this was. What the hell did that mean? That he had willingly and knowingly drank pee? John could still see it in his mind. Dave tipping his head back and swallowing, gulping deep and strong. The image wouldn't leave his head, and now, with the smell of urea still in his nostrils and the bitter tang on his tongue, he felt a tightening in his pants.

John bit his lip. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Dave lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had a baseball glove on, and was tossing a ball into the air and catching it, a parody of the very 90's movie cliché. There was no one to see him; it was irony for irony's sake. The ball was a tennis ball too, just for the extra layer of ridiculousness.

The whole time he had been at John's house, the flavor hadn't left his mouth. Even now, nearly a gallon of actual apple juice later, he could almost still taste it. He smacked his lips, and the memory of it came back. As he had sat with John, playing some POS, glitchy skateboarding game (Dave's favorite genre), he had swished spit around in his mouth, ran his tongue along his teeth, anything to move the flavor around in his mouth.

It never became less unpleasant, but somehow, as the roiling in his belly died down and the initial nausea left, he started to obsess over it. It was like poking a bruise, or peeling skin from a sunburn, or picking at a scab. It was bad, unhealthy, disgusting even, and yet, after a while, somehow addictive.

It wasn't exactly something he ever wanted to do again. But had it been worth it? It was hard to say at this point. His prankster's gambit was definitely benefiting already, but only once he'd revealed the prank would it really skyrocket. The tension was building right now, but the look on John's face when he finally told him the truth would be the _coup de grace_. The real artistry at the point was to know when the moment would arrive. Dave would have to have wisdom and tact to really milk this thing. Soon enough that John hadn't stopped thinking about it, but late enough that the sheer confusion and disbelief had been driven as high as they could go. It was working already, Dave knew. John, all afternoon, was distant, and kept glancing at the empty AJ bottle that he had neglected to throw out for some reason. His brain was in turmoil trying to reconcile what he had expected with what had happened.

Dave ceased his cycle of throwing and catching, and tossed the ball onto the ground, and the glove as well. Sometime tomorrow would probably be best. He'd just wait for an opportunity to present itself.

It wasn't until Dave was walking back over to John's house the next day that he realized the difficulty he faced. How exactly did he finish off this joke? Just saying to John, "lol i drank ur pee but pretended i didnt notice," wasn't going to cut it. He was going to have to think of something way more sophisticated.

When he knocked, John answered the door with alarming alacrity. "H-hey man! What's happening?"

Dave sidestepped past his friend, who was unconsciously blocking a good part of the doorway. "Not much, dude. What do you got planned today?"

John fidgeted. "I was thinking we could watch a movie."

The kid was up to something. Dave played it cool, as always. Never be the first to act in situations like this; let your opponent show their hand. "Cool, I was just thinking about how much I wanted to have my eyes and ears assaulted with actual, literal shit being flung from a television screen. What trash film did you pick out this time?"

"Only the greatest hit of 1989! 'Little Monsters' starring Fred Savage and Howie Mandel!"

Dave raised an eyebrow. No way the choice was coincidental, even with John's extremely specific tastes in cinematography (i.e. limited almost exclusively to the shittiest movies ever filmed). But he said nothing about that; he wanted to see where John was taking this. "That's great, I don't think we've watched that one for at least a week."

John had prepared. In his living room, the movie's opening credits were frozen on the television screen, and the coffee table had a spread of snacks laid across it. Popcorn, crackers and cheese (a weird choice, Dave thought), and a bowl of chips, which Dave discovered were salt and vinegar flavored as he ate one while flopping down onto the couch. John sat down beside him, grabbing the remote and pressing play, and Dave grabbed a handful of popcorn. It was salted heavily. What the hell was John getting at?

Dave sat back, chewing very slowly on his mouthful of popcorn. John was bobbing his knee rapidly, and sitting upright. The titles hadn't finished rolling when he burst out, "Hey! Dave, you must be thirsty! Do you want me to go get some drinks?"

Yep, that's what Dave had been afraid of. How to respond though? He'd have to address this eventually, but might as well make the kid fidget some more first. "Nah, man. I'm good for now."

John stamped his foot, apparently without even knowing. "No!" he snapped, and then, more casually, "I insist, I mean. We're gonna get thirsty during the movie. Might as well get them now, so we don't have to stop it later."

Dave was being backed into a corner, and he knew it. John was calling his bluff, and like hell was he going to let this dweeb beat him in a hand of poker. Just gotta roll with the punches for now. "Fine, dude. I guess I could go for a glass of AJ. Think you could produce that for me?" That was a misstep. He shouldn't be so obvious with his wordplay. Keep to ambiguous double entendres, Strider!

John didn't care about the awkward wording, though. "Okay!" he shouted, "I'll get that now!" He practically ran from the room. Dave sighed, and scratched his head. What the fuck was he going to do now?

John's heart was beating rapidly. Things were going more or less according to plan, he figured. Dave wasn't dumb, if anything he had a better brain for these sort of things, mind games and subtle hints and double meanings. There was no way he was going to misinterpret all of this. John was going to know for sure if yesterday had just been a fluke (maybe Dave had a stuffed up nose and couldn't taste anything, or maybe John really had mixed up the apple juice containers and given him the actual stuff), or if he really... really actually did like drinking John's urine. John didn't know why the thought made his stomach flutter as much as it did.

He pulled a glass out from a cabinet, and glanced behind him at the door. Dave wouldn't come into the kitchen, probably, and Dad was at work so there was no worries there. John set the glass down, and unbuttoned his pants and unzipped the fly. Taking one more completely unnecessary furtive glance around, he pulled the shorts down a little bit and reached in with his free hand and hefted out his junk. He grabbed the glass and held it right below the head of his soft cock. He grabbed the base of his modest endowment with his other hand. Filling the apple juice container the other day had been easy, and it had a much smaller opening than the rim of the glass. For some reason right now, John couldn't stop trembling.

It took a second for the stream to start, even once John tried to release his full bladder. The muscles didn't want to unclench somehow, like some part of his brain was aware he wasn't in a bathroom and shouldn't be peeing here. Then, suddenly, the pisslit flared open and the golden liquid shot out like a rocket. It splattered against the bottom of the cup and some of it splashed out, getting on John's hand. He slowed the stream so that it wouldn't shoot out so violently, and the glass began to fill. The stream hit the wall and splashed against it, forced to the side and creating two circular currents in the cup as the level rose higher and higher. Bubbles formed and the liquid frothed.

John was forced to cut off the flow before his bladder finished draining; the glass was full and in danger of overflowing. Stopping in the middle of a good whizz was the most dissatisfying sensations in the world, but John endured the pain anyways. He let his dick dribble a little bit, and then shook the final drops from the tip. He pulled the glass away from his crotch and examined its contents. The pee was a much darker color than yesterday, and was so warm that he could feel it radiating through the sides of the glass. The top was covered in a layer of bubbles and it stank of that particular ammonia smell. There was no way Dave could mistake this.

John set the glass down as he put away his junk and redid his pants. His heart was still beating worryingly fast. He grabbed the glass and left the kitchen. Dave didn't turn his head from the screen when John walked in. It wasn't til John was only a few steps away that Dave even acknowledged him. "Hm. Thanks man." Dave took the glass from John's hand as he sat down again beside the blond.

Before John had even settled, Dave rose the glass to his lips and took a long, deep swallow, and then set the glass down. His face didn't look disgusted or even the least bit startled. He kept staring indifferently at the screen, shades hiding any emotion that his eyes might have given away.

John's head was reeling, and even sitting down he felt like he was about to fall over. What did this all mean? Dave liked his piss!? He wanted to drink it!? John felt his penis stiffening a little, which did nothing to calm his nerves over the situation. Should he say something? What the heck would he say? He tried to turn his attention to the movie, but he couldn't; his eyes kept flicking back to his best bro beside him, and then to the still-mostly-full glass on the table. When he saw Dave move, his whole head turned reflexively. The blond reached forward again, and picked up the glass for another sip. It was longer this time, two gulps, each which made John's stomach do a little flip and his cock get a little bit harder.

Dave felt like he was winning this round. As it turns out, doing what he had already been doing had been the best course of action. Always stick to your guns. That was something he had learned from Bro, and it was working. John had called his bluff, but Dave played right through and it looked to be a hole-in-one, to make the whole metaphor situation more confusing. He had been a bit nervous, truth be told, when John walked back in with the cup. The color matched better today, but it would take a blind man who was also dead to mistake the pee for apple juice.

He wanted to make his show more believable today, so that meant casual sipping rather than the furious gulping of the other day. It seemed like a challenge, but Dave thought he was up to it. The first swallow had been promising too. The heat, contrary to Dave's expectations, actually made it more tolerable. Almost like coffee, it seemed the bitterness of the stuff decreased with temperature. And with the crash course he had received yesterday, it had been almost easy to take a nice long drink. No harder (if not easier) than drinking prune juice, which Bro had forced him to do every dinner for most of his childhood as some kind of ironic, "good parenting" prank that lasted several years.

The best part was he could feel John's discomfort growing with every molecule of the acidic fluid that passed his lips. As he took his second sip, Dave watched John's reactions out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to turn his head, or even look at him directly, lest it should cause him to incline his head somehow towards John. He just watched out of his periphery as John jostled nervously, staring at his friend drinking his piss with gusto.

Dave spaced out his sips as much as possible, keeping the tension high. It was honestly way more effective than he would have guessed. John looked positively on edge, unable to focus on the movie that normally engrossed him completely in all of its awkward shittiness. He let a minute pass, actually beginning to enjoy the movie a bit. It was dumb, but there was something deliciously ironic in being able to enjoy something he hated so much while John, who loved it, wasn't. Then he picked up the glass and took a sip. It wasn't so terrible at all, now that he'd acclimated to the flavor.

He set the cup back down, trying to focus on the movie even as John shifted his body beside him. Less time passed this time before he went back in for another swallow, but he figured that was fine. He sipped, just a small one this time, letting the liquid wash over his tongue. It definitely had a bite to it, but it wasn't really _that_ bad. He set the glass down.

He picked it up again soon after. He took another small sip. This time he swished it around in his mouth. He hoped John could see; that'd really freak him out. Dave imagined for a moment that he was some kind of piss connoisseur: _Why, yes, this is our finest vintage. A great amber-yellow, wouldn't you agree? Very acidic, very bitter, but the flavor just comes together so nicely, yes? _He swallowed, and without setting down the glass brought it to his lips again. This time he took a much larger sip. _And it goes down so smoothly! Do you taste that kick at the end? Yes, truly this is truly a wonderful glass we have here! The aftertaste is so exquisite too— you can tell a lot about the quality by the aftertaste. _He swallowed it down again. He was pretty firmly lost in his stupid little fantasy now, and without thinking he tilted the glass back and started chugging. _Give yourselves a moment, ladies and gentlemen, to just let that flavor soak in. Let all of those complex tangs and tingles combine into the delicate oral symphony of taste._ Suddenly Dave realized that the glass was empty. He opened his eyes and lowered it. There was some froth on the sides, slowly sliding down towards the bottom, but all the liquid was drained.

How had he lost control so much? It wasn't such a big deal that he drank it too quickly, but just the mere fact that he had been paying so little attention to what he was doing pissed him off. But it did give him an idea. He turned to John, who was unabashedly staring at him. "Hey, man," he said, pretending he didn't notice John had been staring, "Looks like I finished it off a bit too quick. Mind getting me a refill?"

John opened his mouth but nothing came out. He had just watched Dave chug the last half-glass of his pee, his blond head back, his shaded eyes closed, and the sight had given John the weirdest boner. He remembered that he was supposed to be talking, "Y-yeah, man, sure!"

Dave looked amused. "You sure you're not out?"

"N-no! I got more; I have a really big bla- Bottle! I bought a really big... b-bottle of apple juice." Dave was staring, face flat and revealing nothing. "At the store. I bought, at the store. A big bottle of apple juice."

Dave didn't say anything. There was silence. Finally, Dave tilted his head expectantly, "Well...?"

John jumped to his feet, grabbing the glass from Dave's hands, "Oh yeah! I'll go do that!" He ran from the room.

Dave leaned back in his seat. Sometime during the whole scene he had gotten hard. He grabbed his stiffy through the fabric of his clothes, readjusting it to be more inconspicuous and more comfortable. When had that happened? More importantly, _why_ had that happened? He wasn't turned on by drinking piss. Was he?

Suddenly everything snapped into perspective. He was drinking John's pee. Like the stuff that came out of his dick. Like the stuff that was supposed to go into a toilet. Like the stuff that dogs used to mark their territory. And he was _enjoying _it. Sure, the snobby wine taster fantasy had been ironic, but he definitely had been enjoying himself as he guzzled down the shit. And, truth was, he wouldn't mind having some more. There was some sort of charm in it all of a sudden, the heady scent, the biting flavor, the feeling of warmth spreading through his torso as he swallowed and felt it land heavy in his belly.

His penis throbbed, straining against his underwear. What was wrong with him? He imagined drinking another glassful, and then, without his permission, his brain moved to weirder thoughts. Images of him on the ground as John pissed on him flashed through his brain. Him opening his mouth wide as a menagerie of faceless dudes all took aim at it. Him wrapping his lips around their dicks in turn and swallowing every drop of what they had to give, loving the burn that it left on his throat and tongue. His cock throbbed again in his shorts, painfully erect.

No, nope. No no no. This was not okay.

The second John got into the kitchen, he set the cup down. Way too hard, in fact, it clinked loudly and he was almost afraid it would shatter. He unbuttoned his shorts furiously, and yanked down the zipper. He pulled them and his underwear down to his knees, and his erect dick flopped out, bobbing up and down with an almost audible _boing!_ Fuck! Why was he so hard? Why did seeing Dave drink his piss turn him on?

He was breathing heavily. Okay, he needed to calm down, first of all. He closed his eyes and took a deep, controlled breath. Okay. That was better. He grabbed the glass. How to do this? He pushed down on his erection, as far as was comfortable and then a bit past that, and tilted the glass at an angle in front of it.

It was even harder this time to get the flow started. He pushed, lightly at first, and then harder, clenching all the muscles that controlled the bladder whose names he probably couldn't even pronounce. Finally he managed to get the flow going; it splashed against the bottom, filling slower than the first time. He clenched and unclenched, flexing internally to get squeeze every last drop out. Even so, he quickly ran dry. He tried in vain for a minute to get more, just a few more drops, but it wasn't going to happen.

He pulled the glass away and brought it up to his face. It was only about half-full. It would have to do, he guessed. He tucked his still-hard dick away, rezipped and headed back to the living room. What was happening was a bit of a surprise.

Dave was standing up, and before John could even begin giving his explanation of how the AJ bottle was closer to empty than he had thought, Dave burst out with an uncharacteristically passionate, "Hey, man, it's been fun, but I've really gotta get going."

John sputtered, "Wha- but the movie..." He felt the warmth of his urine radiating through the glass, "A-and your juice!"

Dave snapped, "I don't want any more juice, okay!?" He stopped, backpedaling, calm again suddenly, and heading for the door "Look, man, I'll see you tomorrow maybe, I just gotta get home right now, okay?" He opened the door and slammed it behind him without waiting for a response.

John stared. What just happened? He sat down on the couch, piss sloshing in the cup. He was more confused than ever. One moment Dave's sipping his piss as if it were fine wine and he was a raging alcoholic, and the next he's storming out as fast as he could.

The movie was still playing. It was the apple juice scene. John laughed, much more bitterly than he usually did at this part. He grabbed the remote and mashed the pause button dejectedly. He let out a huff. Well... It would be a few hours more before Dad got home... And his dick was still pulsing angrily in his shorts...

He put the half-full glass down on the table. He undid his pants, for the third time in less than an hour, and tugged them down, lifting up off his bottom to wiggle them over his hips. As soon as it cleared the waistband of his undies, his erection swung out, slapping his belly forcefully. John giggled idiotically. He liked it when it did that.

He wrapped his left hand around the turgid flesh, and began pumping. Christ, it felt good. He tried to avoid thinking about Dave, and all that had happened. He turned his thoughts as far from that as possible. He thought about Rose's mom, who had this entire chic scientist motif going that made John's knees weak every time he saw her. He tried to take her face and superimpose it on top of his mental snapshot of the topless girls he had seen in the magazines in Dave's bro's room. Dave had come to him excitedly, voice hushed, and ushered him into the room silently. They had pored over the smut, whole stacks of it, both enraptured by the unfamiliar, titillating images. John thought about Dave's face that afternoon, flushed and red and totally unguarded. John imagined that same look on his face as he knelt prostrate as John pissed on his face, Dave opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue to catch the liquid as it fell.

No! John shook his head, trying to physically shake the thought out. He didn't want to piss on his friend; he didn't want to think of Dave that way! But John's prick disagreed; it was harder than steel in his hand, throbbing in time with his heavy heartbeats. John put one of his knuckles in his mouth, biting nervously on his finger.

The glass of piss was still sitting on the table. Still clenching his cock tightly, John leaned forward and picked it up. He lifted it to his face, and put the rim right below his nose. He inhaled deeply, the scent overwhelming his brain. John began tugging on his dick again, slowly at first and then with more vigor. He had no desire to taste the yellow liquid again, but he kept breathing the scent in. There was definitely some allure there, he decided. The scent was musky and had almost a physical weight to it, manly and thick.

John gave up. He let his mind wander to whatever sick fantasies it wanted as he continued to jerk and sniff deeply. He imagined Dave, wet with piss, looking up at John with pleading eyes, face uncovered. He imagined Dave chugging entire gallons of piss. He imagined Dave being surrounded on all sides by dicks, every one of them blasting him with urine from every angle. It took John less than ten seconds to cum. He squeezed his dick tightly, his whole body jerking as orgasm hit, the piss sloshing and some of it splattering over the rim of the glass onto his tee-shirt. His cock spurt its clear-whitish load into the air, the cum arcing several inches before smacking wetly against his shirt, the cloth suddenly getting wet from every angle. The second shot just dribbled out, running down over John's still-pumping fingers.

He panted, cock still drooling the last of its cum. He let go of his dick, already mostly soft. He set the glass down, panting and red-faced. He sat there for several minutes, letting the cum on his hand and on his shirt dry and congeal, before finally standing up and shuffling towards the stairs. He felt like he needed a shower.

Dave lay in his bathtub, nude and glassesless. Beside him were several empty water bottles; he'd been chugging them since getting home. His whole body was tense, and as bad as he wanted to do this, he desperately wanted to stop. He _needed_ to stop. But addiction is a powerful thing. And it had wrapped its insidious fingers around his whole body faster than he would have thought possible.

Between the fingers of his right hand he held his soft cock. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his abdomen, but Dave liked it, in a way. He held it in a bit longer; the wait would just make the release all the more satisfying.

Finally, Dave felt like he couldn't hold it back any longer. He slackened his muscles, and his soft cock came alive as the urine started to flow. It started as a trickle, splashing against his belly, but quickly the flow increased, and the pee arced through the air as it exited his dick and came crashing back down onto his chest. He flexed, and the stream strengthened, splashing up farther on his chest. The warmth felt amazing on his body, indescribably erotic for reasons Dave didn't know. He opened his mouth and leaned forward, catching the stream as it fell. He let it pool there for a few seconds, then swished it around, welcoming back the now-familiar flavor, then swallowed, and opened up again for more.

After the second swallow, Dave flexed a bit harder and leaned forward some more, letting the stream splash on top of his head. It soaked through his hair and dribbled down his face. With his hand he aimed his cock, moving the stream from his head back to his face, letting the yellow liquid cover his whole face, and then catching more in his mouth.

Dave was beginning to run dry. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, getting all the piss he could, before finally the stream weakened, its range only able to reach his chest, then his stomach, and then it was done. The last few drops dribbled from the tip, and Dave stuck his fingertips in the puddle of pee on his belly and brought them to his mouth, licking each one of the last precious drops.

He was suddenly very cold as the liquid cooled and ran down off of his body. Today he had panicked at John's house. He didn't understand what was going on; what had been a dumb, poorly-thought-out prank had somehow turned into him realizing things about himself that he would have almost liked to have remained ignorant of. But there wasn't any denying it now, sitting in his bathtub, belly sloshing pleasantly with both his and John's pee. Dave sincerely, unironically liked getting pissed on.

And he needed more.

When the doorbell rang, it took John by surprise. He hadn't really been expecting anybody, especially not Dave, not after... whatever had happened yesterday that made him storm out the way he did. John hit pause and stopped the timer beside him. Two hours, ten minutes, and thirty-nine seconds. Not too bad, he figured, definitely on schedule. He was trying to beat his best time on his speedrun of Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. The online community on the Zelda Universe forums would never accept a time that had a break in the middle like this as legitimate, but that didn't matter much, John figured. It would still be several weeks of training before he was anywhere close to challenging the current record, so the precise time was pretty irrelevant.

He got up, stretching, as whoever was at the door rang again. Oh well, the interruption was pretty well-timed if anything; John's bladder was practically crying out for a potty break at this point. His fault for drinking so many Monsters (it takes a lot of energy to play video games for hours on end without break).

Clearly whoever was outside was an impatient fuck; they were already ringing the doorbell a third time when John got to it. He swung the door open, slightly annoyed, only for his slight grimace to disappear as soon as he saw who was standing there.

"O-oh! Hey Dave. I... I guess I didn't think you'd be coming over today."

The blond shuffled awkwardly, something that didn't escape John's notice. His voice, though, was its usual deadpan, "Of course, man, why the hell wouldn't I?"

"Well, I just thought... You just left really quickly yesterday, is all."

Dave shrugged indifferently, but his foot was tapping silently but rapidly, "Yeah, man, Bro texted me, said I hadda come home that second. His schedule's fucked, man, sometimes he'll be out til 2 and not give a fuck what I've been doing and other times it'll be 3 in the afternoon and he needs to know exactly where I am. Didn't mean to ditch like that. Anyways, can I come in?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure!" John swung the door open the rest of the way and shuffled quickly out of the way, so that Dave could waltz in. "It's just that— well, I guess I thought you left because... um..."

Dave raised an eyebrow, "You okay, Egbert?"

John's ears reddened, "D-Dave, I-I-I-I think there's something we should maybe, uh, talk about? I-It's just that–"

Dave cut him off, "Hey, Egbert, that sounds cool an' all, but hold that thought. I walked miles upon miles in the summer heat only to stand on your doormat for half this conversation. Don't you think you could get me some refreshments?"

"O-Oh, umm..."

"I've been really digging that AJ you got, I could go for some more."

"D-Dave, that's, uh, a-actually what I-I wanted to talk to you about–"

"But, man, you've really been holdin' out on me. That shit in the glass was stale as shit. Today, I want somethin' a bit fresher." Dave was definitely in John's space now, and it made him uncomfortable. "In fact, I think I'd like to try it straight from the source."

"D-Dave, I-I really don't know what you're talking about!"

Dave leaned back, and it was only then that John realized that he had been inclining himself towards John, to better invade his personal space. Dave was playing him like Liberace tickling the ivories, and John knew it. "C'mon, man, I know you ain't that dumb. You're going to drop your pants, piss into my mouth, and I'm going to swallow every drop."

"D-Dave, I-I..." John closed his eyes and swallowed. This was what he had wanted, isn't it? All the lewd visions that had passed through his mind the night before flashed through his brain. It felt wrong, on some deep, intrinsic level, unclean, dirty. But he wanted it badly. Fuck it, oh well. "O-Okay."

"R-really?" Dave asked, taken aback. He had been sure that it was going to take a lot of convincing, or worse, John would think he was creepy and Dave'd have to pass it off as a joke.

"Y-Yeah. Just... let's not do it here."

Without discussing it, they ended up in the bathroom. It felt appropriate for what they were doing. John turned to face Dave, and without a word the blond dropped to his knees and reached for John's waistband. John blushed. He had never had another person undo his shorts before, and already he found it weird. The same floaty, lightheaded sensation that he had come to be very familiar with over the past few days. It wasn't unpleasant, but it gave everything a hazy sense of unreality to it.

John's pants were suddenly yanked down, together with his underwear. He was struck suddenly with an absurd sense of embarrassment. He wondered if he was supposed to take off his shirt. Probably. He didn't anyways, out of some bizarre sense of modesty.

Dave meanwhile was feeling conflicted. He was staring his best friend's cock in the eye. It wasn't that it disgusted him. In fact, it was the opposite. Dave felt uncomfortable at just how much he liked the look of John's dick. It, unlike Dave's, was cut, and he found the difference charming and intriguing. It looked to be a bit smaller than his own, but it was hard to tell, and John had some small wisps of hair sprouting at the base, something that Dave had yet to develop.

Dave had avoided thinking about all of this in terms of straight or gay, but it occurred to him now just how gay it really was. That hadn't seemed like such a big deal last night, when he had committed to his plan, but now...

And yet, his own cock was straining against the fabric of his shorts, rock-hard. And like hell he was going to be the one to back out now. No way was he going to lose face like that. So he opened his mouth and leaned in.

John yelped when Dave's lips wrapped around his flaccid dick. It was totally foreign, the warm, wet sensation of Dave's mouth, and he could feel himself already starting to chub up. "D-Do I just... let go?" John asked, looking down at the top of his friend's head.

Dave gave a muffled affirmative grunt, the vibrations shaking through John's cock and making his eyes roll up in his head from the intensity of the feeling. He braced himself, and then let go.

The flow started almost immediately. The moment Dave felt the warm liquid splashing over his tongue, he began sucking, gulping it down the second it flooded his mouth. John groaned from above him, and Dave could feel the dick in his mouth beginning to harden already. He kept swallowing, welcoming the return of the flavor that only two days ago he could barely stand.

His hands found their way to his own waistband, and in less than a second he had his own painfully erect cock out. He started jerking furiously even as he continued to guzzle the piss his friend was pumping into him. Dave let some collect in his mouth, nearly filling it before swallowing it all down.

John's head was full of stars. The simple act of vacating his bladder after holding it in so long felt amazing, but combined with the fact that he was vacating it into Dave's stomach and getting his cock sucked at the same time made it so pleasurable that his knees were about to give out. Nothing he had ever experienced felt better than this, not masturbation, not even the explosive orgasm he had had the night before.

As John's cock got harder and harder as he pissed, Dave was forced to sit up a bit higher. He no longer had the entire thing in his mouth, but instead his lips were wrapped around only the head of the cock. He continued sucking, not letting even a single drop escape his lips. As he drank, he could feel the warmth spreading through his chest and the liquid slosh around in his stomach. It was a thousand times better straight from the bladder. The piss was hotter, more flavorful, and the feel of a hard cock in his mouth gave the whole thing a deeply sexual charge that made Dave's dick throb even harder. He was pumping his own length furiously, feeling like he could cum at any moment.

Dave could hardly believe the volume of urine John was putting out; he had been going strong for at least twenty seconds, and wasn't showing signs of stopping yet. Dave's stomach was almost beginning to feel full, but deliciously so. John's dick in his mouth was pretty much completely hard now, which only made the stream blast into Dave's mouth with more force.

John felt his bladder beginning to near empty. He flexed harder, keeping the stream shooting with the same intensity. Neither wanted it to end. Reflexively, John put his hand on the back on Dave's head. Dave felt the hand, pushing slightly on the back of his head, forcing him to take just a bit more of the pissing cock into his mouth. The stream was beginning to weaken, Dave could feel. He sucked harder, trying his hard to get all the piss he could. But the stream kept weakening. John flexed and relaxed, forcing a few more strong spurts that Dave sucked down with gusto, but he was nearly dry.

Finally the stream tapered off. Dave kept sucking, licking over the tip with his tongue, catching the final few drops. His throat burned with the aftertaste, but it felt amazing. John's hand was still on his head, and although he hadn't planned on it, Dave kept sucking. It wasn't like this could get any gayer, anyways.

He wasn't exactly a pro at blowjobs, and while he knew the basics, he had never imagined that he would give one. He tried his best anyways, bobbing forward and back, trying to take John's entire length. His tongue flicked forward, teasing the slit and the head. His was still jerking his own cock furiously.

John groaned aloud. Every sensation he had felt over the past few minutes had been overwhelming and totally new. The warmth of Dave's mouth alone was nearly enough to make John cum, and now that he was actively sucking and licking it, John knew he couldn't last. He felt his balls draw up, and he gave a shout.

The cum blasted into Dave's mouth with the same ferocity that the piss had, but there was considerably less of it. The second the first spurt hit his tongue, Dave was pushed over the edge. He groaned through John's cock, sending the same painfully pleasurable vibrations through the brunet's crotch. Dave's cock spurted in tandem with John's, spilling jizz all over his hand and the floor in front of him.

John's cock spasmed once more, sending another small flood of cum into Dave's mouth. He swished the thick, globular fluid around. It was radically different from pee, viscous and salty. Dave liked it. He swallowed, adding it to the piss sitting heavily in his stomach.

Finally, he released John's cock from his mouth. It fell between John's thighs, wet and glistening with Dave's saliva. John's hand fell from the back of Dave's head, and Dave leaned back and looked up at his best bro. He brought his jism-coated hand up to his mouth and licked it clean, swallowing his own cum in addition to John's.

John sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "That was..." he said breathlessly, "...something."

"Sure was," Dave said noncommittally.

John looked around awkwardly, "I-I think I really liked it."

Dave gave a pointed glance at John's soft cock. He had neglected to pull up his shorts. "I could tell."

John laughed uncomfortably, and then fell into a silence. After a moment he said, "W-would you want to do it again?"

Dave tucked his soft cock into his shorts. They had some cum on them. He'd have to clean that up. "Sure, man, but you know what I really want right now?"

"Um, what?"

"I really fucking want a glass of apple juice."


End file.
